


Veni Vidi Vici.

by fromunderthesun



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band), One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Boys In Love, College, Cute, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Friendship/Love, Gift Fic, Gift Work, Happy Ending, M/M, OT5, OT6, Oral Sex, Romantic Friendship, Sexual Content, University
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-25
Updated: 2013-08-25
Packaged: 2017-12-24 15:58:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/941820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fromunderthesun/pseuds/fromunderthesun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What do you think, Ashton? Do you reckon we’re all going to become ‘great pals’ like Harry here thinks?” Louis pokes Harry in the side and the other boy squeals and shudders from the slight tickle.</p><p>Ashton just laughs and shrugs. Louis likes how affable he is and how he lets all of <i>them</i> and their own weird little colloquialisms and insider knowledge wash over him. “I dunno. I hope so. It’d be pretty cool if we did.”</p><p>“It’d be brilliant,” Harry whispers hoarsely and they all start laughing again, teasing him for being so smashed and mental.</p><p>In between the teasing and snickers, and as soon as the other insults and jokes start winging out, Louis bumps Ashton’s shoulder with his own. “Welcome to the madness. Hope you can handle it, mate. It really doesn’t get much better than this.”</p><p>Ashton just beams again, looking entirely too much like human sunshine. “I think it’s great.”</p><div class="center"></div>
            </blockquote>





	Veni Vidi Vici.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a strange pairing to a lot of people and I get that, but I wrote this fic for my friend Ally because, one, she ships it and, two, she deserves to be happy and if that means a little fic does that, then I'm happy too. I really liked working on this because it was fun and outside of what I normally do and it was great being explore like that.
> 
> I love you, Ally. I hope you like it, babe.

“So I says to him, I says, ‘Mate, you’re sure that’s a rooster?’ and he’s all like ‘Of course it’s a rooster! I’m not an idiot!’” Niall giggles and attempts to smother the sound with a hand over his mouth. “So I tell him ‘You wanna bet on it?’ and we both put a tenner down and I—I—” Niall starts giggling again and has to stop to regain his composure. “So I reach over and take off the red rubber fringe some sod had glued to this poor _chicken_.” Niall falls backward into the couch with a fit of laughter, careful as always to make sure his beer doesn’t spill.

“So you won a bet about whether or not a rooster was actually a rooster?” Liam asks, incredulous. He leans away from Zayn’s arm around his shoulders so he can look at Niall properly. “Seriously?”

“Seriously, bro.” Niall cackles and takes a long pull from his drink. “Weirdest night of my life. He ended up buying all my drinks for the night too so I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

“Music degrees,” Zayn scoffs. “You’re all mad.”

“Yeah, but it’s fun.” Niall’s grin is maniacal.

Louis fades out of the conversation to glance around the room from the little corner they’ve taken over. There’s people taking up space on what seems to be every available surface but that’s not surprising. Harry’s always been rather popular, so of course he’d invite a lot of people round for a party. Louis has a sneaking suspicion that a lot of the people here just heard about what was going on and joined in though. It’s whatever—the more the merrier. Besides, it gives him more attractive people to scope out. Harry doesn’t seem to mind the extra people either. For the most part, he’s just been hanging with them all night and talking to the people he _does_ know, so he can say he’s at least not a completely shit host. At the moment, he’s actually rustling them up more drinks in the kitchen. Louis glances that way and smiles satisfactorily when he sees Harry walking toward them, clutching five cups in his big hands. Beside him is a boy who looks around his age—also called _young_ —who’s looking at him concernedly.

“Are you sure you don’t want help with those?” Louis hears him over the cacophony of people talking and the music pumping from by the windows. He can tell that the boy—whoever he is—is definitely not from anywhere in the UK or Europe even, judging from the strident Australian accent that laces his every word.

“No, I’ve got it,” Harry replies in his low voice. His tongue is caught between his teeth and his brow furrowed. It’s his concentration face and Louis usually only sees it when he’s studying or—well, they won’t get into that. He can tell that this has become a mission for Harry, one that must be completed. He can be weirdly stubborn like that. “Thanks, though.”

“Yeah, sure.” The boy beams at Harry, his smile all sunshine. He looks around at the rest of them now that they’ve reached them and there’s nowhere else to go. Destination: couch. Arrived. “Hi!”

“Hi,” Zayn says warily. He glances at Louis, clearly wondering who the boy is, but Louis can only shrug because he doesn’t have the faintest idea either.

“Hi, sorry.” Harry starts to dole out the drinks and smiles. “This is Ashton, everyone—my new flatmate.”

“Oh, yeah, hi!” Liam reaches out and grips Ashton’s hand, smiling his Angel Smile, the one that endears him to everyone in the world—and if Zayn’s hand on his shoulder looks a little possessive, Louis wouldn’t blame him. “It’s nice to meet you!”

“Nice to meet you too.” Ashton smiles again, infectious, his accent all the more evident this close.

They shake hands all around. Louis takes the time to size Ashton up. He seems nice enough, which is good considering he’ll be living with one of Louis’ best friends. He’s also almost _cute_ in a way, what with his curled hair—much shorter and looser than Harry’s—and his wide smile. Louis gets a good vibe when they hold hands and thinks that Harry’s found a great new flatmate to replace the wanker who’d only been with him for three weeks…though Louis still adamantly denies that he and Liam had anything to do with that whatsoever.

“Sit and drink with us?” Louis asks when all the introductions have been made. “We’ve got plenty of room if Irish would budge over.”

Niall moves to perch on the arm so that Ashton can fit on the couch. Harry, rather than sitting on the other arm or the floor, simply decides to drape himself over Louis’ lap, giggling all the while.

“Look! We’re all friends now! You and me and the lads and my flatmate!”

Louis taps him gently on the cheek, smiling wryly. “We’ve only just met one another, Haz.”

Harry looks up at him, wide-eyed and flushed and more than just a little drunk himself. “Yeah, but we _will_ be friends. Great pals!”

They all just laugh because it’s Harry and his mood is infectious. Louis can feel the shaking of shoulders on either side of him, as well as from his lap. He turns to look at Ashton, squeezed in slightly next to him, and can feel his own lopsided smile. Whatever. He’s drunk and happy. And the other boy is…interesting.

“What do you think, Ashton? Do you reckon we’re all going to become ‘great pals’ like Harry here thinks?” Louis pokes Harry in the side and the other boy squeals and shudders from the slight tickle.

Ashton just laughs and shrugs. Louis likes how affable he is and how he lets all of _them_ and their own weird little colloquialisms and insider knowledge wash over him. “I dunno. I hope so. It’d be pretty cool if we did.”

“It’d be brilliant,” Harry whispers hoarsely and they all start laughing again, teasing him for being so smashed and mental.

In between the teasing and snickers, and as soon as the other insults and jokes start winging out, Louis bumps Ashton’s shoulder with his own. “Welcome to the madness. Hope you can handle it, mate. It really doesn’t get much better than this.”

Ashton just beams again, looking entirely too much like human sunshine. “I think it’s great.”

—————————————

“What are you doing today?” Louis asks, mobile pressed against his ear.

He can practically feel Niall’s shrug from over the line. “I dunno. Why?”

“It’s finally not fucking raining out is why. Let’s do something.” Louis twitches his curtains back again as if afraid that the blue sky and sun will disappear if he looks away for too long.

“Something like what?”

Louis doesn’t even have to think about it. He’d rang Niall with a plan in mind—he just needed to get some sort of green light on it and Niall was always the easiest to convince.

“Football. Just something fun.”

“Okay.” Niall agrees immediately, like Louis knew he would. “I’ll ring Curly.”

“I’ll get the lovebirds.”

They don’t even talk about how Liam is actually Niall’s flatmate; he and Louis seem to have shared custody over both Liam and Zayn now and have for the last several months. They’ve fallen into the routine of it too. It’s rather easy, especially since Louis knows for a fact they came back here last night because he could hear the slamming of the headboard against the wall before he put his headphones in to drown it out.

Louis pauses for a second. “Hey, Niall?”

“Yeah?”

“Tell Harry to bring Ashton. We may as well have six.”

—————————

They meet up an hour later at the park by Louis and Zayn’s building. It’s not as nice as the pitch on the uni campus but there’s no tuition moneys paying for the watering so the grass may be a little bit more brown and dry—but a field is a field so it doesn’t matter. Louis just counts it lucky that no one else has claimed the small field on the southern end of the park.

He waits for his friends to show up, casually kicking a ball around until they do. He’d pounded on Zayn’s door twenty minutes ago and told him and Liam to get their arses down to the park in fifteen minutes, so he’ll consider himself lucky if they arrive in another ten. He kicks the ball up on one toe and lobs it into the air, rolling it over a shoulder so he can balance it on his back before he lets it fall and does it again.

Niall comes first. They start kicking the football back and forth, catching up such as they need to. It’s all talk about modules that they’re taking and coursework until Niall mentions he has his eye on a girl in his Music Theory class and they immediately launch into a long conversation discussing his odds and the likelihood of how long he’d have to wait to ask her out. Zayn and Liam come by that point, holding hands and looking smug. Louis eyes them for a moment, trying to decide how bored he is—the consensus comes back quickly that he’s bored enough to talk some shit.

“Don’t the two of you look all rosy-cheeked,” he calls.

The two of them just laugh, pressed up tight to each other’s sides. “Maybe,” Liam agrees.

“Good morning sex then?” Louis prods and hears Niall start to giggle behind him.

Zayn’s smile is long and slow. “The best, actually. We managed to get two rounds in before some _arse_ pounded on the door. Didn’t we, babe?”

Liam is slightly pink but nods all the same. “And once in the shower.”

“And once in the shower.”

Louis stares at them, pulling the most disgusted face that he can manage. “I use that shower too you know.”

“Sorry, mate.” Zayn shrugs as if in apology but Louis knows he’s not at all sorry for it. The bastard. “We wouldn’t have had to get off in the shower if someone hadn’t stopped us in the middle of round three in the first place.”

Louis sticks his tongue out and responds as primly as he can, “Sex is bad and gross and you’re going to hell for it. Do not pass Go. Do not collect $200.” 

“Aren’t I going there already since I’m gay and all?” Zayn jokes.

“Oh. Yeah. I reckon you can have as much gay sex as you want then since it’s inevitable anyway.”

“Reckon so.”

“What’s inevitable?” Harry asks as he ambles up. Lost as he had been in their bantering, Louis hadn’t even see him. However, he has Ashton with him and that makes Louis smile, especially since Ashton looks like some sort of puppy next to Harry due to their height difference and the excited smile on his face.

“Zayney going to hell,” Niall fills Harry in.

“Oh, yeah. It is.” Harry shrugs.

“Cheers for your belief in me, the lot of you.”

“Well, I believe in you,” Liam offers helpfully. He and Zayn smile at each other, making all sorts of googly eyes, until Louis waves an arm between them, head shaking emphatically.

“No way, nuh-uh. Liam doesn’t get to help. He’s the one tempting you into all the gay sex anyway.”

“Oh.” Zayn frowns and then shrugs. “Well, at least it’s worth it.”

That makes Harry laugh. He and Zayn fist bump as Louis just rolls his eyes, hands clapping. “All right, lads. Enough of the sex talk, though I know we love contemplating Zayn and Liam’s sex life. I hear enough of it as it is, so let’s play some football.”

They divide up into two teams with three people a side. Louis and Niall are captains, and Louis ends up getting Harry and Zayn. It’s a pretty solid team—he and Harry balance each other out and Zayn and Liam aren’t on the same side, which has led to disaster in the past.

And Ashton is better than Louis thought he might be.

The two teams end up being pretty evenly matched and the game becomes all the more fun because of it, especially because they’re not scoring much. It’s Louis’ favorite kind of game. At one point, he gets the ball and is halfway down their makeshift pitch when Ashton attempts a steal. Louis dodges but Ashton had overcommitted and loses his balance as a consequence; their shoulders hit, knocking Ashton off-balance even more—and he goes flying. He hits the ground and Louis stops, sure that the other boy’s badly winded at the very least. When he turns around to see, however, Ashton is laying spreadeagled on the grass laughing hysterically with his fringe all over his face and in his eyes.

“Dude, are you okay?”

Ashton just keeps laughing, hiccuping out little bubbles of it when he tries to stop and control himself. “Oh my god. That was amazing.”

“But you’re okay?” Louis prompts. Does he have a concussion? Or a stroke? This doesn’t seem like normal behavior. He doesn’t even think Niall would be laughing after accidentally taking a hit like that.

“Mate, I’m awesome,” Ashton wheezes, still trying to talk through his giggles. “That was hilarious.”

“If you say so.” Louis laughs because he can’t help it. “You proper _flew_ , Blondie.”

“It felt like it.” Ashton sighs out another laugh, moving to sit up straight so he’s not laying on the field like a broken toy. “The landing wasn’t very nice though.”

“Here.” Louis reaches out a hand that Ashton takes. He hauls him to his feet. This is the closest they’ve ever been, Louis realizes with a start. He never noticed Ashton’s eyes were so big and brown, a type of brown that he’s never really seen before. His body is buzzing and he can’t really understand why. “Better?”

“Yeah,” Ashton breathes. They don’t look away from each other and it makes everything between them—the air and their breath and their hands which are still holding tight—turn electric. “Lots.”

“Good.” Louis pulls away, slightly disappointed to be doing so. In the back of his mind, alarm bells are shrieking. “Good.”

“Yeah.” Ashton says again.

They keep staring and there’s _something_ there, something that’s undeniable and heart-fluttering and tangible. Louis feels like if he reached out he could touch it and it’s been a while since he felt this kind of chemistry with someone. The last person was Eleanor and that makes the alarm bells in his head go off all the louder.

“Hey!” Liam yells. It makes both Ashton and Louis jump and they whip around to look, finally realizing they’re on the field with the rest of their friends. “You two good? We wanna keep playing!”

“Yeah, we’re fine!” Louis calls back. “Let’s go!”

He jogs back toward the football again and tries to concentrate on the game but his hands are tingling and his chest is warm. They keep playing, though he’s not one hundred percent into it now. They stop after not much longer, Niall complaining that he’s too hungry to run anymore and if they make him he’ll fall over. They start talking about lunch plans and Louis just looks at Ashton, really _looks_ , wondering if he felt that electricity too and what it would mean, if it means anything, because Ashton is not getting out of his life anytime soon. If anything, it looks like he’s going to be in it a lot more considering how he and the other lads get on.

Louis gets a bit of a flutter in his stomach just thinking about it and all of the possibilities that that could entail. It’s a nice thought, even if it’s just a thought. And they’re thoughts he hasn’t had, not seriously, in a while.

————————————————

The thing is, Louis is a social creature by nature. He needs his alone time just as much as any other bloke but, for the most part, he enjoys being around people. _Thrives_ on it, actually. It might be one of the reasons why he caused so much aggro as a kid, because he could just never resist a dare or kicking someone who really needed it. He also couldn’t stop acting up in class which, honestly, is more than a bit fitting since he’s a year away from a single honours degree in English, specializing in communications, which he knows fuck all to do with. It sounded easy, it sounded fun, and it sounded like the least amount of effort so he signed up for the program. He’s liked it, he really has, it’s just that the degree is so broad that it’s not like he’s Liam studying some criminal justice shit or Zayn studying graphic design. There’s a lot he can do with his and very little of it is specialized.

It seems like a giant metaphor for his life, honestly.

So, the thing is, Louis is a social creature by nature. And he’s had too much alone time. Zayn and Liam are off screwing like rabbits all the time, in the Honeymoon Phase: Stage II and Niall has been seeing the girl from his Music Theory class. They also seem to be getting some canoodling in—which good on Niall, honestly, he needed to get shagged—so Louis has been alone and he’s bored and antsy and feels like he’s about to come out of his skin. Harry suggests that he come over to his and drink some fancy drinks and watch whatever’s on E4 so Louis agrees, not really having any other options. Does he have coursework? Yes. Does he care? No.

Louis pushes open the door to Harry’s flat because it’s open. The front hall and kitchen are clearly empty, so he wanders back towards Harry’s room, vaguely wondering where Ashton is and if he knows that anyone can get into the flat right now.

“Harry? Hey, dickhead, where you at?”

“Room!”

Louis’ eyes rolls because he knew it. It takes all of a few steps for him to get there and lean against the doorframe to see Harry sitting on his bed pulling on a pair of socks with a haphazard competency. Sometimes, like now, Louis wonders how Harry even made it to eighteen when he’s such a hazard to himself.

“Hey.” Louis nods in greeting.

“Hi. You all right?”

“Yeah, good. Just bored out of my bloody mind, you know. Standard really.”

“I feel ya.” Harry stands and stretches. “You ready for a banging good time then?”

“Only if I get to do the banging.” Louis smiles winningly but Harry just rolls his eyes and pushes his hair out of his eyes. Louis sighs and tries again, because he can’t help himself. “Yeah, I’m ready, ready for us to get out our fooking heads,” he jokes in his best Northern accent.

“Jesus, don’t ever do that again. That was awful.”

“Have a go then. Go on.”

“I don’t wanna. Can’t I—”

“No, you’re not allowed to do Irish.”

“Why?” Harry pouts for a minute, looking entirely too much like some sort of adorable man-child than an eighteen year old uni student. “It’s not right, you picking for me and everything.”

“Yeah but—” They both hear the front door open and stop to listen. There’s the jingle of keys and then Ashton, sounding concerned.

“Harry? Harry, the front door was unlocked—”

“It’s okay! I left it open for Lou.” Harry moves toward the hallway, Louis on his heels.

“Oh, Louis’s coming over?” Is it just him or does Ashton sound pleased? And why would he even notice that he does? Louis disregards it as he and Harry share a look, laughing to themselves because it just seems funny right now.

“Nah, he’s already here.” They step into the front room, goofy smiles on their faces, and Louis waves.

“Hey, Oz.”

“Hi.” Ashton smiles at him, pack on and sunglasses shading his face. Aviators seem to suite him rather well. “How it’s going?”

“Pretty good. Just come round because the rest of my mates are thinking of their cocks and not their friends.”

“How do you figure?” Ashton leans against the wall, laughter all over his face. Louis gets the feeling that he’s somewhat scandalized and keeps the little satisfaction it gives him to himself.

“Because they’re doing other, less fun things like shagging people rather than hanging out with me. Obviously.”

“Obviously.” Ashton nods, his humor present in the upward curve of his lips. Louis finds himself wanting to make the boy laugh out loud just so he can see what it looks like, because he reckons it’d be pretty brilliant. “You’re with Harry now though.”

“Only because there were no other options.”

“Hey!” Harry objects.

Louis just flaps a hand at him to quiet him down. “Joking, Haz, joking.”

“Better be.”

“Always.”

They stick their tongues out at each other and then Louis tickles him briefly just because he can. He also makes sure to ruffle up Harry’s hair something good because he knows it drives him mad.

“This doesn’t look like very productive studying.” Ashton slides his sunglasses on top of his head to eye them with fake reprimand. Louis stops himself from smiling and does his best to be contrite—it’s hard when Ashton is about as intimidating as a puppy in his Captain America vest and schoolbag, though.

“Studying?” Harry frowns. “Fuck coursework, we’re just chilling.”

“Harry—don’t you have that big bio exam tomorrow?”

“Oh my god.” Harry’s eyes blow wide and then he smacks a hand to his forehead, face screwed up with frustration. “ _Shit_. Jesus, how did I fucking forget that?”

“So…I’m guessing the two of you weren’t studying then?”

“No.” Harry pushes his hair from his face, clearly annoyed. “I’m so sorry, Lou. I really need to prep for this exam. I thought it was Friday.”

“It’s okay.” Louis is more resigned than annoyed, especially because Harry is looking at him with big apologetic eyes. It just means that he gets to go back to his flat alone and be bored out of his mind again. And no one should ever drink when they’re alone and bored. He learned his lesson the last time. “We don’t want ya failing biology, yeah?”

“I’m _so_ sorry. I know I promised that we’d hang out…”

“It’s fine.” Louis shrugs. “I’ll just go back to mine and, like, clean.”

“Or you could hang with me.”

Louis swings to look at Ashton and oh. _Oh._ There’s that buzzing again as he thinks about hanging out with him. Alone. And it’s mad because Ashton is Harry’s age, meaning he’s at least two years younger than he is. Meaning that Louis shouldn’t be getting so excited about being interested in him. He’s shaggable, he’s good with people—this shouldn’t make him feel like a nervous kid again.

But Ashton is—cute. He’s sweet. It’s intriguing and interesting and Louis feels like there’s— _more._ More than the happy-go-lucky guy that Louis has gotten to know. More than the Australian inexplicably in London who’s become a part of their friend group.

And he wants to find all of that out.

“You don’t mind?” Louis asks carefully.

“Nah, I’m not doing anything.”

Louis looks at Harry, who smiles at him like a parent excited to see their kid making friends. Jesus. It’s not as if Louis needs the encouragement; he wanted to make sure that Harry wasn’t going to have his head for hanging out with his flatmate instead of him.

“Yeah, that’d be cool.” Louis makes sure he sounds as casual as possible and _not_ like he’s excited to see the other boy one-on-one, without their other friends around as interference. He tells himself that it’s just because he wants to get to know him and nothing more. “What d’you want to do?”

“I don’t know. We could just chill here.” Ashton shrugs. Louis likes the way his shoulders look moving beneath his vest and the straps of his backpack.

“That cool, Haz?”

“Yeah, yeah. Go for it. I’m just gonna be studying for this bloody exam.”

“With music loud enough to drown out the sound of you dying.”

“Exactly.” Harry flashes a smile. “Have fun, lads.”

Louis glances at Ashton, leaning against the wall still, and feels the electricity filtering through his body again. “I’m sure we will,” he murmurs quietly.

—————————————

They have drinks. It’d been the plan with Harry and Louis sees no reason to change it just because he’s with Ashton instead. They make drinks in the kitchen before they sit on the couch to watch some film with Jonah Hill that’s on the telly. They watch for a while, chatting and making jokes, but this is the first time that Louis has had the opportunity to have the other boy alone and he’s taking advantage of it.

He starts with the most obvious question of all once they’ve gotten a second drink and have settled onto the couch again, ignoring the film in favor of each other.

“So…London,” he prompts and receives a laugh back.

“I see you’ve masterfully deduced that I’m not actually a Brit.”

“English,” Louis corrects wryly.

Ashton just laughs again. “I moved for school.”

“That sounds—”

“Expensive, yeah. But, honestly, home just wasn’t gonna cut it for what I want to do.”

“What do you want to do?” Louis leans back against the couch, able to feel more than hear the pounding of Harry’s music coming from his room. It’s faded to background noise now, discernible only because of its bass lines. Must be some Kanye West shit or something. He takes a sip of his drunk, the rum going slow and smooth all the way down, making him feel warm all over.

 _Christ_ , he loves rum.

“Sound engineering.” Ashton raises his own glass to his mouth. “I want to help mix and master albums or be the sound dude out on the road with some band.”

“Which you can’t really do in Oz.”

“Yeah, I mean, it’d probably be easier finding a gig but for the level of stuff I want to do, Australia just wasn’t the best option.”

“Makes sense. So you came to London then?”

“Yeah. It was a bitch of a process, that’s for sure, but this is where I needed to be.”

“And your family—?”

“Pretty great, actually. My mum’s a bit upset because she didn’t expect me to be going so far but it’s been good, yeah. Skype and Whatsapp are godsends because phone calls are so massively expensive.”

“I can’t even imagine.” Louis shakes his head. “My family’s all just a few hours and a train ride away.”

“Mine are about a twenty hour plane flight and that’d be without any delays or connections.”

“Jesus.”

“Agreed.”

They both sit for a few moments, drinking their drinks and looking disinterestedly toward the telly, showing some advert or another for the next programme. Louis couldn’t give less of a shit if he tried. He feels like he’s literally vibrating from the want to ask more questions but he doesn’t want to push Ashton, not when they don’t really know each other. But how else will they find out about each other?

It’s all one giant, convoluted, stupid mess.

Louis takes another drink and inhales, bracing himself. “And your girlfriend? How’s she feel about it all?” He turns to look at Ashton, fighting to look only mildly interested and not as if there’s a whole lot more riding on the question.

Ashton just shrugs, frowning lightly. “Don’t have a girlfriend. Haven’t in a long time actually.”

“Boyfriend?” Louis asks and hardly dares to breathe.

Ashton looks over at him, head turned slightly, and smiles with just his lips, something soft and sweet and a little sad. “I haven’t had one of those in a while either. He and I actually broke up before I came out for school because it just—wasn’t going to work.”

“I’m sorry.” And he is. He is because he knows what it’s like to say goodbye to someone you love. He knows how much it can hurt. “I’m really sorry, Ashton.”

“It’s okay. We ended things after I told him about London so it’s been a while, actually. I just hope that I can make it work with someone like Zayn and Liam do or you and Harry.”

“Yeah, they—wait, what?”

Ashton looks at him, obviously confused as well. “I hope I can have a relationship as good as Zayn and Liam and you and Harry?”

“I—” Louis actually pauses, lost for words. “Harry and I—we’re not together. We tried like, once, but that was forever ago—” two years ago “—and now we’re just mates. Best friends, actually. But that’s all.”

It sounds lame even to his own ears but he’s so shocked that he doesn’t even know what to say. He’s been linked to Harry before—they were even pretty hot and heavy for the span of a month or two in what seems a lifetime before—but he’s usually caught onto it pretty quickly and has dispelled the misconception. This…this has just taken him completely off guard. Judging from the way Ashton now looks like a tomato, it’s done so for him as well.

“You’re…just friends?” he croaks.

Louis nods, watching Ashton carefully. “Just friends.”

He watches Ashton actually swallow, the tension tight in his own chest. He’s a bit worried, which is a strange feeling. He’s so used to his mates and knowing how they’ll react to most things that this—that _not_ knowing what to anticipate—is making him all the more nervous. 

Ashton meets his eyes, the slight crinkle of a frown present between his eyebrows. He stares at Louis for a moment and exhales heavily.  
“So you’re telling me that I’ve been feeling guilty about liking you the last few weeks for nothing?”

Louis grins, head tilting. There are little bubbles of happiness floating through his system and popping in his bloodstream so that happiness can continue spreading. He feels nearly dizzy from it all and from this sudden revelation.

“You like me?” he asks softly.

“And felt guilty about it.”

“But you like me.”

“Maybe I don’t now because I’ve found out that you get along well enough with someone to the point that I thought you were screwing each other.”

“Have done before but that’s over now.” Louis waves a hand dismissively. “The whole point of this is that you like me.”

“What, like it was hard to suss out?”

“Well…”

Ashton just laughs and downs a drink, eyes rolling above the plastic rim. “As if. I’m as obvious as a teenager.”

“I didn’t think so.”

Ashton snorts. “Well, that’s good.”

Louis smiles and takes a sip of his own drink, the rum hitting him and combining with the happy bubbles to form quite the intoxicating swirl. They sit quietly before Ashton clears his throat, peering at Louis from beneath his lashes as if afraid to look at him full-on.

“Are you saying you like me too then? Is that what this is?”

Louis smiles again because Ashton looks so earnest. So _hopeful._ That’s a rather good feeling too, because he doesn’t think anyone’s felt _hopeful_ about him in a while. He doesn’t even know if he’s felt this giddy about someone else in a long while either. That’s a kind of happy and sad thing to realize, that he hasn’t been excited for the _more_ with someone since, well, probably Eleanor.

“I don’t know,” Louis murmurs, unable to stop himself from teasing just a bit.

“You don’t know? How do you not know?”

He looks so frustrated and cute for it that Louis can’t help himself. He really can’t. He’d like to, but he’s always been a sucker for a pout and Ashton has a killer one. He leans across the couch to grip his face lightly, meeting his shocked eyes with a laugh before their mouths press, flush and tight.

He can taste the surprise before he licks into Ashton’s mouth, laughing to himself because the whole situation is _mental._ It’s ridiculous and mad and— _god_ , his lip being bitten like that makes his entire body tingle. He moves closer, every other thought abandoned in favor of this, of Ashton and his slick lips and warm mouth and the smile he can actually feel through the slide of tongues. He hears something hit the floor but doesn’t care what it could possibly even be because it’s not Ashton. Hands brush faces and twist into hair as they press even closer, content to kiss and touch and explore.

Louis presses kisses to the corners of Ashton’s mouth and licks into him one last time before disconnecting. He can hear the other boy’s staggered breathing and it just piques his want all the more. His fingers card through Ashton’s hair as he sits up, pulling away in full.

“Is that answer enough?” he asks, fighting to remain as serious as he can.

They both burst out laughing at the same time until Louis leans in again to press another kiss upon him, soft and slow. What their first kiss should have started out as, instead of the hot and the heavy and the instant tongue.

“So, you fancy me?”

Ashton rolls his eyes dramatically. “Yes. And you ‘fancy’ me?”

“Yes. Obviously.”

“Obviously.”

They start snickering again, foreheads touching and laughter mingling. They watch each other, brown to blue, until Louis sighs, picking at the material of the couch beneath him.

“I really want to take you to bed,” he murmurs ruefully.

“I’d be okay with that.”

The speed with which Ashton answers makes Louis’ lips curve but doesn’t change his mind much. Unfortunately. He wishes it could. He wishes _anything_ could but—

“I don’t want this to be some one-night stand type of thing and it feels like a one-night stand type of thing. Plus, we’ve had some drinks.”

“One and a half.”

“With a shitload of rum in them.”

“Not a shitload, just a lot,” Ashton tries to argue weakly.

They laugh again until Louis’ sigh breaks it. He traces aimless patterns into the soft skin of the other boy’s wrist, feeling his breath on his face and his slightly-faster-than-normal heartbeat beneath his finger.

“I want to,” Louis murmurs lowly. “I really fucking want to, but I just don’t think it’s a good idea tonight.” Although Ashton’s pout is starting to sway the solidity of his decision. Is that good? Or bad? He can’t decide.

“I just—why?”

“Because I like you.” Louis makes sure they’re paying attention to one another, eyes hooked and focus unwavering. This is important, after all. He’s not usually this direct, Louis. He likes the games, he likes the fun, he likes the teasing—but Ashton needs to know the why’s and the how’s because they’re important. “Because, while it’s awesome, I’m not interested in just sex.”

“Because you like me.”

“Because I like you and I feel like we could have more than just one night of amazing shagging.”

“Amazing, huh?” Ashton’s mouth quirks drolly. “That’s assuming a lot.”

“It’d be amazing,” Louis responds confidently.

“So, what? Because you like me, we’re not going to have sex because—”

“Because, I’d like to date you, not just fuck you.”

Louis feels rather than hears Ashton’s breath intake and watches the way that his pupils dilate with the surprise. He holds his wrist, pressure enough to be noticeable, and just waits. It only takes a moment for Ashton to recover and Louis feels his hunger spike as he watches the boy like his lips. Oh god. Why did God decide that something like that could be so attractive and send it straight to his dick?

“You like me that much, huh?” Ashton’s voice only trembles a little, but Louis still notes it and files it away to peruse over later.

“Maybe.”

“I think maybe yes.”

“You might be right.”

“I am.”

They grin at each other and then fall into a kiss that’s natural and soft. When it ends, Louis presses one last one to his mouth, holding on to how sweet it feels. It’s like melted sugar, with just the hint of being able to burn. He likes it. Likes the sugary sweetness, likes how it just borders on the edge of heated. Likes that he’s able to feel that again, rather than the hunger and the want and the need and the desperate desire for more, faster, harder. He likes this pace. He likes going slow. Weirdly enough, he’s kind of missed that too.

“I should go.” He pulls away, murmuring the words he wish he had the not-conscience to say. “I’ve got things like coursework and cleaning to do.”

“None of those sound as fun as sleeping with me,” Ashton complains, pouting just a bit still.

Louis snorts. “No, it doesn’t, but that’s how it’s gotta be, unfortunately. I’ll see you later, Oz.”

“See you, English.”

Louis leaves, noticing that Ashton’s cup had spilled on the floor, solving the mystery of what he had heard falling. It makes him feel another stab of validation for undoing the other boy as much as he’s undone him. 

Half an hour later, he’s in the shower, his hand moving furiously over his cock. He’s frustrated with himself for saying no, even though he knows it was the best decision. Louis leans against the tiled wall, teeth gritted, as he tries to coax himself to completion. He can see how it would have gone and it’s what has gotten him so turned on, those images in his head that had started playing in full color and surround sound as soon as he’d left Ashton and Harry’s flat. He can see how they would have continued kissing on the couch and maybe even gotten a little handsy, touching chests and stomachs and cocks. Louis can _feel_ Ashton’s fingers around him instead of his own and the power of his imagination is dizzying. The fingers of his free hand clench into a fist of pent-up tension. _God._ They probably would have gone to Ashton’s room when things started to get too hot so Harry wouldn’t have seen. They would have continued kissing and touching until their shirts and trousers were shucked off. And then—Louis shudders, head falling back, his hand still fisted about himself. And then, they would have kissed and bit at bare skin and he can _feel_ , he can absolutely imagine Ashton on his dick, his pink lips stretched wide and slick about him.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Louis spits out, hand working all the harder from the sight in his mind.

He can imagine sliding his fingers inside the other boy to make his eyes blow wide and his dick twitch. _God_ , that’s his favorite thing about being with guys; there’s a sense of power in making someone so fucking aroused that they actually _move_ with it. He can hear Ashton’s wet cries and the sound of his curses in his accented voice, especially the way he’d say his name and—

“ _FUCK._ ” Louis comes, hard, into his hand and against the wall, shuddering with the intensity of a climax that makes his head swim. He slumps against the tile, the hot water from the shower head streaming over him. It becomes too hot with the intensity of the _everything_ that he’s feeling so he turns it off, abruptly removing the added stimulus. He’s left, pants echoing against the walls, trying to bring himself back from the edge he flung himself off of. He runs a shaky hand through his sopping hair, reminding himself to breathe.

“This isn’t—good,” he whispers to himself in the steam. “This is really not fucking good.”

Especially because he can see Ashton’s brown eyes and the look of laughter on his face and hear, clear as day, “ _Louis, Louis, please_ ” as if Ashton were right next to him again.

And he knows, without a doubt, that this feeling isn’t going to go away and that next time…the next time he and Ashton see each other isn’t going to end with them saying goodbye and Louis getting himself off in the shower because of it. Maybe he’s hoping it happens but, shit, he’d much rather someone else be swallowing his cum other than the drain and that’s just the plain truth.

————————————————

They don’t see each other the next week at all.

Louis isn’t counting or anything, honest, he’s not. He knows they’re both busy and have their own lives to contend with. For God’s sake, he has classes and work at a rubbish gastropub and all the other shit in his life going on. It doesn’t revolve around Ashton. It doesn’t revolve around the pressing, nagging, worrying feeling he has that something’s gone wrong and now he’s missed his chance.

He _definitely_ doesn’t ask Harry about it. He wouldn’t stoop that low. He’s not _that_ worried. It’s not really a big deal. Plenty of fish in the sea and all the other shit you tell a mate who’s down in their drinks because of someone they’d gotten on with. Except that he and the rest of the lads are hanging out for the second time that week, going out to some pub to watch a match on telly and get shitfaced, and Ashton’s not there. And Louis, being Louis, feels like he’s going to die if his curiosity isn’t sated. And that’s all it is. Curiosity. It’s not like he really cares, because he doesn’t. Not at all.

“So, no flatmate?” he asks, watching the screen as he takes a sip of his beer. When you’re out with the lads, you have a pint and call it good. Tequila is for later, when the match is over and they’re either celebrating because of Manchester’s loss or bitching about their winning. It’s standard, really. One of their little traditions, just like they always break out the whiskey for Niall when the Sheep are playing—win or lose.

“No, I don’t think so.” Harry frowns, hand clutched round his pint glass though he’s not been drinking much. He’s a sipper, that one. “He said he had some project or sommat to do.”

“It’s Friday,” Louis says and if his voice comes out sharper than he meant it to be, it wouldn’t be the first time.

It causes Harry look over at him though, confusion making his eyebrows draw down low over his eyes. “Yeah? The dude’s just trying to get all his coursework done.”

“But it’s _Friday_. Who does bloody coursework on _Friday_? You’ve all weekend for it!”

“Maybe that’s why you nearly failed two courses last term.” On his other side, Liam throws a friendly elbow into his side and, well, okay, Louis is suddenly not really in the mood for it.

“Shove off, Payne.” He glares at the other boy, offended. “That had nothing to do with not studying. It’s _Friday_. Have you done any of your coursework, huh?”

“Didn’t have any.” Liam shrugs amiably, grinning because he knows it’s going to get Louis all the more heated. “We had discussions last lecture about the morality of the law as it applies to defendants on trial.”

Louis sucks in air through his nose, trying to breathe and remind himself that punching his friend in the face in public probably isn’t the best idea to have. “You had—a discussion?” he asks in a strangled voice.

“Yeah. We’re supposed to come in next class and talk more and write a paper on the discussion.”

Louis is so mad he actually clutches the bridge of his nose with two fingers, telling him to breathe again. “That’s the biggest bullshit I’ve ever head in my life.”

“Only because it’s not you,” comes Zayn’s reply on the other side of Liam.

And it’s true and he doesn’t have anything to say in return so he leaves it be, still massaging his nose as if that will help at all. Harry, however, isn’t quite finished.

“Why are you so worried that he’s not here anyway? It’s not like he’s one of the other guys. I like him, but he’s not one of our best mates.” There’s a silent _yet_ pinned onto it that Louis doesn’t point out.

Instead, he just shrugs. “I dunno. He’s just been with you a lot recently so it seems weird now he’s not.”

“Uh-huh,” Harry hums, completely unconvinced. He’s giving Louis one of his _looks_ , the one where it’s like he can see what you’re not saying written beneath your skin. Louis shifts in his seat, uncomfortable, because Harry’s always been able to tell when he’s fibbing. “That’s why. Right.”

“It is,” Louis insists, staring at the telly and taking a pull of his drink in an effort to get Harry to stop. The kid is like one giant, walking example of ADHD but when he really, really wants to he can focus on something so hard that it’s a wonder it doesn’t incinerate.

Louis already feels on fire.

“You like him, don’t you?” Harry murmurs, low enough that their other three friends, cheering because of the ball being stolen from Manchester, don’t hear.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Louis responds primly.

The noise that Harry makes is half snort and half surprise. “You do, don’t you?”

“No.”

“Don’t lie to me. You know you’re shit at it.”

“Not as shit as you are,” Louis points out, desperately trying to get out of this conversation.

Harry isn’t having any of it. “You do.”

He has the stubborn whine in his voice that means he knows he’s right, the kind where his syllables all draw out into their own words and he sounds just as petulant as he did when he was small and his mum had denied him a biscuit. There’s no denying that voice or that tone. Louis has fallen victim to it many times in the last two years and now is no different.

So he sighs, swallows another mouthful of beer, finger playing in the ring of condensation it leaves on the top of the bar top. “So what if he does?” he mutters.  
He doesn’t need to look at Harry to know his eyes are big and his mouth rounded. His best friend is extremely expressive and unable to hide anything unless he really wants to—which is rare, especially when they’re all together. He can practically feel his surprise surrounding the air around them and takes another drink, pint nearly gone now.

“Oh,” Harry says moments later. “I guess I knew that but—wow. Lou, I—”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Louis tosses him a look. “It’s stupid and ridiculous and—”

“He told me he liked you,” Harry reveals, as if he’s telling Louis the weather outside is glum, per usual.

“What?”

“He told me he likes you?” Harry repeats, like it’s a question.

“I heard you say that but… Jesus, when did this happen, Haz?”

“A couple days ago?” Harry shrugs, not fussed. “I dunno. We were just talking about you lot and he told me and—”

“And you didn’t tell _me?_ ”

“It’s not as if it came up. ‘sides, I wasn’t sure you did too and I didn’t want my flatmate’s feelings getting hurt.”

“I’m your best friend!”

“And I’m his flatmate for the next year. Gotta have peaceful cohabitation at home, mate.”

“You’re a monster,” Louis grumbles.

“I’m smart and it bothers you.” Harry sighs and nudges him in the side. “You gonna do something about it?”

“Is he going to let me?”

“More than let you.”

Harry starts snickering and Louis puts him in a headlock. The other boy starts shouting, alerting the rest of their little group, as Louis ruffles up his hair, yelling to be heard over him. The patrons all start shouting at them and Louis even thinks half a sandwich is thrown their way before Tom, the affable barman they love so much, comes over to smack Louis smartly on the head. Louis immediately pulls away from Harry so he can massage his head, frowning because it actually hurts a bit.

“What was that for?” he complains, other customers turning away so they can actually continue talking or watching the match.

“For you being a knob,” Tom responds simply and walks away.

The other lads start giving him shit over it, laughter making their eyes squint and noses wrinkle. Louis does his best to pout and act affronted but, honestly, he loves them all so much, even when they’re being tossers. Harry just smiles at him and doesn’t bring their conversation up again and, when Manchester loses, they finish off their beers and start on their tequila shots and the rest of the night.

—————————————————

The front door opens, brushing against the carpet with the familiar sound. Louis stands in front of his mirror, tidying his hair to make sure it looks perfectly windswept. It takes a lot more effort than he’d ever say but he finally fixes a few pieces and sees his reflection grin because of it.

“I’ll be right out!” he calls toward Harry. 

They’re set to go out tonight for some dinner and drinks and he’s excited, if only because he misses having alone time with the other boy. He loves them being mates and wouldn’t give it up for the world, but their two month long whirlwind of a romance had its perks, the least of them being how much they were able to be out alone together. Louis steps back from the mirror, examining his jeans and the baseball shirt he picked out critically before he decides he looks well enough. He heads out toward the living area, pulling his shirt hem down as he goes.

“So, where were you thinking of getting drinks at? I heard this really ace new club opened up and—” He looks up to see Ashton in his living room, plastic shopping bag in hand and a look of confusion on his face that mirrors Louis’s own. He stops, utterly nonplussed.

“You’re not Harry,” Louis says dumbly, the first words he can think of tumbling from his mouth.

“And you don’t look like the rest of the guys.”

Louis stares for a moment, wondering what the hell is going on. “I am—confused.”

“Harry told me we were coming over here to watch some movies and have a night in.” Ashton hefts the bag in his hand as if it’s evidence to corroborate what he’s saying. “He said he’d be over and to bring some DVDs and snacks and that he’d be right behind me.”

“That’s funny, considering Harry said we were going out drinking tonight.”

They stare at one another for a few moments before Louis swears and Ashton starts laughing, these great big laughs that even sound like his accent and how that’s possible Louis doesn’t even want to think about.

“It seems like we’ve been set up.”

“And I’m sure Harry’s at home cackling to himself about what a great matchmaker he is.” Louis rolls his eyes. “What a prat.”

“Mmmhm.” Ashton hums his agreement. “So what do we do now?”

Louis eyes the bag in his hand. “What films did you bring?”

Ashton opens the bag to peer inside and Louis takes him in, from his tousled hair to his long-sleeved shirt and the jeans that fit him all too well. He’s wearing thongs too but Louis chooses to disregard that because no man should ever wear such revolting sandals on his feet and he likes Ashton.

“Uh, I’ve got Transformers, Die Hard, and A Lot Like Love.”

“A Lot Like Love? Oh my god, that _wanker._ ”

“He said you liked it.” It’s clear from the way that Ashton says it that he’s not so sure about it anymore and Louis just laughs, rubbing his eyes with his fingertips, unable to believe what’s happening in his flat at the moment.

“No, I hate it. It’s Harry’s favorite film.”

“Thus the wanker comment.”

“Thus the wanker comment.” Louis sighs. “He also gave you shit-all to bring over.”

“Hey, one of those is mine.” Louis watches Ashton until the other boy breaks and laughs. “Okay, they’re all Harry’s. So what now?”

Louis considers that for a moment. He looks at Ashton again, dressed casually but nice, and remembers the feeling of the boy’s hands on him and his own wild imaginings. His mouth suddenly turns dry and his lungs are clogged, as if the air is suddenly harder to breathe.

“I dunno. What do you wanna do?”

“There’s no movie night? For sure?”

“Not as far as I know. Liam and Zayn are out getti—” The rest of his words are cut off when Ashton leaps forward to kiss him, their mouths bumping together hard before they remember themselves and slot them together, licking ravenously into each other.

Louis clutches at Ashton’s waist, dragging him closer so that their hipbones grind. He doesn’t care about the slight pain it causes as he continues kissing the other boy, gripping him by the hair so he can pull him away and rake his teeth down his throat, loving the way that he hums in response. He tongues against the hollow at the base of his neck before he presses a kiss to it and leans away.

But Ashton growls, looking at him with half-lidded eyes that already seem so much darker. “Don’t.” His voice comes out slightly harsher than is normal and the sound of it goes straight to Louis’ dick. “Don’t stop.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

Mouths clash again and their hands join the war, running over hair and chests and backs. Louis presses closer, hips jerking. He can feel Ashton pressed against him, just as hard as he is. It makes him all the more turned on and the kiss turns slightly more violent, full of biting and lip pulling. Ashton whines and Louis starts to lean away, unsure of why, but the other boy drags him in closer, making it clear that he enjoys it.

They stumble backwards, Louis pulling Ashton with him. Their kissing turns sloppy and their hands wild. Ashton’s shirt hits the wall and slides to the floor and he trips over both his and Louis’ shoes as they come off in the short corridor. They make it to Louis’ room after Louis bangs into the doorframe with his arse and they start laughing, gripping one another, snickering at each other with crinkled eyes.

“I’m going to have a bruise in the morning,” Louis whispers, not sure why he is because it’s not like Zayn—or Liam—is here but he’s whispering and it just feels right.

“You’re going to have a lot of bruises in the morning,” Ashton promises.

And.

_Well._

They make it to the bed somehow. When Ashton hits the mattress, Louis shucks out of his shirt too and throws it across the room. He leans over the other boy, bare skin brushing and _god._ He kisses a line down the boy’s chest and stomach, reaching for his button and zip. It isn’t long before Ashton’s jeans are on the floor too and Louis leans back in the semi-darkness, a lecherous grin plastered on his face.

“Excited, are we?” He brushes his hand down the outside of Ashton’s pants, feeling his swollen dick beneath his palm. Ashton’s breath hitches and Louis _swears_ he gets even harder beneath his fingers.

“Maybe.” Ashton already sounds breathless and, fuck, it’s a huge turn-on hearing him sound like that in comparison with his accent. It makes everything sound rougher and Louis likes that. Quite a bit, actually.

“Maybe a lot.” Louis smirks to himself and leans over, kissing Ashton’s cock through the fabric of his boxers. He hears the sound of Ashton sucking in air through his nose and just laughs, nuzzling against the stiffness beneath him. “Right, Blondie?”

“ _Fuck._ ” Ashton scrabbles at his shoulders; Louis doesn’t know if it’s to encourage him to continue or to get him off. “Jesus Christ, Louis.”

“I’m taking that as a yes.”

Louis kisses his cock again and finds his head through the fabric. He wraps his mouth around it and hears Ashton’s low moan. He licks him through the cotton, sucking on him. Girls and blokes really aren’t that much different, not really. Eleanor once told him that one of the things that turned her on the most was being fingered through her panties—so why can’t a guy like being blown in the same way? Harry liked it well enough.

It doesn’t take long for Ashton to gasp and for Louis to decide that this bit of foreplay is over. He slides the other boy’s pants down and throws them to the floor too so that he can lick the length of his cock in earnest. The sound that he makes has it all becoming worth it, especially when Louis wraps his mouth around him, taking half of his cock in.

“Louis.” It’s just a whisper but it makes Louis groan quietly. “Louis, god, I—” Louis deepthroats him, wincing because it’s been a while, but the _sound_ that Ashton produces because of it literally makes his eyes close and his own cock throb. “Oh _god_ ,” Ashton chokes out and it’s all the motivation Louis needs to continue.

He slides his hand around the boy’s hip, thumb stroking the ridge of bone beneath his skin. He watches him, watches the boy with his head thrown back and lower lip caught between his teeth and decides that more is now warranted. That hand slides over warm skin again to brush at the swell of Ashton’s arse.

He finds the entrance he’s looking for and slowly, slowly, pushes a finger inside.

Ashton arches and he feels so good, all hot and tight. Louis exhales heavily, seeping in the sensation. It’s been too long since he last shagged someone, that much is clear, and every feeling is heightened because of it. There’s shadows and whispers and sighs and Ashton, Ashton in his bed and Ashton sighing and Ashton tangling his fingers in Louis’ hair, pulling him up so they can kiss, as Louis continues to slide first one finger, then two, then three into the other boy, stretching at muscle to create the space he needs.

Then Ashton is running his hand down Louis’ chest, breath hot on his skin, his eyes wide even in the darkness. “Louis.”

It’s all he says but it’s all Louis needs, just that one word, the word he’s been imaging for a week and the way he can feel Ashton’s eyes on him like a physical weight and, _god_ , he’s all thumbs and can’t get his fucking jeans off for the life of him and he’s so frustrated because _he needs to get his jeans off_ and when they finally unzip and unbutton he throws them to the ground vehemently, along with his pants. His hips roll into Ashton’s as soon as he’s undressed. He hisses because their dicks rub together and it’s all friction and heat and Ashton groans and it’s so much, almost too much, and yet not quite enough.

He props himself above the other boy, removing his fingers and ungluing their hips. He watches him in the grey darkness, needing to watch him to make sure.

“Okay?”

Ashton nods and Louis thinks he licks his lips. “Yeah, okay. Definitely okay.”

“You ready?”

“Please.”

It’s all Louis needs.

In the space of a minute, the foil wrapper from his condom is on the floor and his fingers are slick with lube. They slide easily into Ashton again, Ashton looking up at Louis with wide eyes and his arse firmly planted on one of Louis’ pillows. Fingers stroke and slick until Louis can’t stand the teasing anymore and his fingers are replaced by his cock.

“ _God._ ” He tilts over the other boy, chest rising and falling heavily, his head swimming. It’s been too long. Clearly. How could he have let himself go on for so long? He forgot how brilliant it feels to be sunk within someone and have them shuddering from the feeling of it too. “Jesus, you feel good, Ash.”

“I—” He hears the boy swallow. “I could say the same.”

It makes Louis huff out laughter until he leans in and kisses Ashton messily, missing half his mouth in the dark. He starts to move then, hips recoiling and pushing forward again. It takes a few thrusts before he remembers that he’s usually quite good at this and finds a rhythm that works for them. It’s fast. It’s not hard—not yet—but he needs the friction and the speed. He needs Ashton as much as he can have him, needs to swallow him down whole and feel him in his deepest recesses before he could ever begin to have slow and careful sups of him.

Their kisses are sloppy and wet, full of searching tongues and hungry need. Ashton scratches at his back and Louis presses into him harder, the pinpricks of pain igniting the dark and greedy parts of him, the ones that like the pain, that want more of it. There’s curses now, flung out from between gritted teeth to sink into their skin like inkstains and the shadows around them. There’s sweat and muttered words—promises, passions, poems—that swirl and disappear, forgotten in the darkness and the effervescence of what this is. This isn’t gentle. This isn’t kind. This is animalistic—pure want—and the both of them thrive on it and those primal natures that rise to the surface to come to play.

In a shorter time than it seems, Louis can feel the tightening in his belly and the heaviness in his balls that precedes his end. He strains, fighting for more, fighting for that end but also wishing it would never come. He holds to Ashton’s hips, hard, and flips his fringe off his face.

“Turn over,” he demands, voice all sorts of raspy from striving. “Now.”

Ashton does as he’s told without another word and Louis slowly feeds himself into him again, admiring this new angle. He holds to his hips again, starting off easy before that pace picks up and it’s all hard and fast and delicious friction once more. It doesn’t take long before Louis jerks into Ashton, hard, one last time, and comes, bent over the other boy, his fingers leaving bruises in the soft skin of his hips. He stays there for a moment before rolling to his back beside the other boy, chest heaving.

Ashton is breathing heavily too and Louis knows it’s not done and over with, knows that it’s not quite finished—or that Ashton isn’t. He reaches for the other boy, kissing him softly, slowly, tongue swirling in his mouth before his hand falls to his cock. Louis starts pumping at him, kissing him as he does. He swipes a thumb across Ashton’s head and can feel the sticky wetness there.

“You gonna come for me, baby?” he asks, biting at his collar bone. “You gonna come all over me, Ashton?”

“Louis.” The other boy just pants, eyes huge.

Louis bites back the laughter he wants to release and goes faster, adoring the way that Ashton’s head tilts back and the little whine that fills the room. It’s gratifying and entirely too satisfying, reducing a person to nothing but a bundle of vibrating, exposed needs like this.

He fucking loves it.

“You wish you were inside me? You wish you could fuck me?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Ashton gasps. “Fuck, yes.”

“Then you have to come for me.” Louis slows down to long, slow strokes that make Ashton whine again. He’s finding he likes that sound a lot more than he should and would do a lot more than is necessarily healthy to hear it again. To cause it again. “Then I can lick you all up and swallow you down and we can have more fun again.”

“Louis—”

“I want to fuck you, Ashton. I want to fuck you _hard._ I want to blow you in the shower when we get there.”

“ _Jesus._ ”

“You like that? You like the sound of that?”

“Y-yes.”

“Budge up.” Louis stops, just stops, and he knows Ashton wants to kill him but thinks that he can change his mind on that count. He nudges the other boy up until their positions are flipped—he’ll be honest, it was kind of killer on the wrist—and then he kisses down down down the center of the boy’s body until his mouth is wrapped around his dick again and he starts bobbing over him.

It doesn’t take long then until Ashton tenses and groans, hands knotted in the sheets and head twisted to the side. His hips jerk and he’s spilling into Louis’ mouth. Louis swallows as much as he can and then leans down to kiss Ashton with the vestiges.

“Mmmm. Now that…that was definitely worth the wait,” he murmurs, sounding like the cat who got the cream—ha ha—but not caring in the least.

“I—” Ashton stops and tries again. Louis has the feeling he’s spaced out and a bit lost in the waves of feeling crashing over him still. “Definitely worth it.”

“As amazing as I said?”

“Better.” Ashton’s voice is dreamy and drifting; Louis wouldn’t be surprised if he fell asleep. “Much better.”

“I’m going to remind you of that when you’re not all orgasm high.”

“Okay.” Ashton sounds completely and totally at peace. Content. Still floating in the ebb and flow of release. “I’m okay with that.”

“Mmmhm.” Louis leans down and kisses him again, soft and slow, pouring all of his own wonder and happiness into it. It was amazing. It was pretty damn amazing and, fucking hell, why hasn’t he had sex in so long? “Glad we waited?”

“Yes.” Ashton rolls over as Louis lays down so that they’re looking at each other. His fingertips trace Louis’ face and trail down to his shoulder and arms. “Absolutely.”

“Good.” Louis smiles and they lean into one another again, the meeting of lips full of the promise of more, so much more. It’s clear they’re not going anywhere and that this…this isn’t going to be a one-night deal, which Louis had been so afraid of.

——————————————————————

It’s a Tuesday morning, Louis has class in an hour, and he doesn’t want to get out of bed. Getting out of bed doesn’t even bear any contemplation. He’s not doing it. He’s not. His class isn’t even that important this morning. They’re just going to be…going over the last bits of information they’ll need for their final exams…in a week. But it’s not that important to go, right?

Right?

Besides, it’s cold. He snuggles down under the duvet more, ducking his head beneath the relative warmth still caught inside. His nose is cold and he _hates_ being cold. What with it being December outside, getting up and going to class—god, having to _walk_ to his first class in the biting London cold—is not going to happen. It’s not. It’s not, it’s not, it’s not. He refuses. He claims a rain check. Check back again tomorrow. Louis Tomlinson will not be in attendance today, thank you very much.

“Lou, if you aren’t ready in fifteen you’re going to be late.”

Louis peeks out from beneath the duvet in order to send Ashton the most pitiful look he can manage, all big eyes and down-turned lips, just like a little kid begging for a new toy.

“But I don’t wanna.”

“Too bad.” Ashton laughs, not even looking at him but fixing his hair in the mirror instead. “I’ve got to go to class too so if you go, we can walk together.”

“That does sound nice…” Louis hedges, poking his head out of his burrito warmth.

“You know it is. We get to hold hands and talk and, if you’re lucky, I’ll even kiss you goodbye.”

“If I’m lucky.” Louis snorts because he knows that there will be more kisses than that because there’s always more kisses than that. He sits up in bed and runs his hands through his hair. “It’s just hard to work up the motivation when Christmas hols are in two weeks, Ash. _Two weeks._ ”

“I know. I know, I know. We’re going to have an awesome time during them too.”

“Especially since Niall is having that thing at his—”

“And Clara is gonna be there.”

“ _Right?_ We finally get to meet her! He’s been keeping mum the whole time.”

“It’ll be good. It’ll be fun. We’ll get totally wasted and dance and then—”

“And then you’re going to Australia for a week.” Louis pulls himself from bed only to drape himself around Ashton. “What am I gonna do when you’re in Australia for a week, huh? The bloody time difference is enough to drive you mad.”

“We’ll make it work.” Ashton smiles at him in the mirror, all sparkling eyes and huge grin. “We always make it work, Lou.”

“True.” Louis smiles and then frowns, leaning closer to the mirror. He peers at it and then down, at Ashton’s actual chest. “Hey, isn’t that my shirt?”

“So what if it is?” Ashton laughs. “You stole my Marvel one from me.”

“Did not!” He totally did. “It’s not fair—you even look better in it than me.”

“Sure, whatever you say.”

“You do. How do you look better than me in my own clothes?”

“Magic, obviously.” Ashton laughs and Louis does too, because Ashton laughing is a brilliant sound and one he’s come to love in the last three months, the same way he’s come to love the feeling of their fingers laced and how Ashton can’t cook and how he’s obsessed with recording Instavideos of everything they do. He’s become a very real and solid part of Louis’ life and, Jesus, it’s been a great three months. He’s become rather necessary, in a way that the rest of the lads are, but different too because he doesn’t want to snog any of their faces off at the end of the day.

Louis holds Ashton’s face, making sure that they’re looking at each other. Ashton immediately turns serious; he knows that when Louis does this it’s because it’s important. It’s just another one of his little nuances that the other boy has picked up on and it makes his heart swell.

“I love you, you know?” He says the words carefully because he hasn’t said them to anyone in a while and had them mean what they do. “I love you, Ashton, and having you gone in Australia for a week is going to kill me.”

Ashton’s entire face goes soft until it’s like he’s smiling with just his eyes and there’s cosmos in there, threatening to pull Louis in. He smiles too, a big one that fills his whole face. He cups Louis’ face just like Louis is doing to him and leans in even closer.

“I love you too, Louis. So, so much.”

“Well, now that’s sorted.” 

There’s laughter on his lips when Ashton presses his to them. The kiss is long and full and so sweet it nearly hurts, but Louis holds on for dear life, wanting to remember every single second of it so he can pull the memory out, even when he’s old and grey, and go back over how it felt. He wants to remember the feeling of Ashton pulling him even closer and when they start laughing and have to stop, arms wrapped around each other, because life is so so good.

Louis gets dressed quickly and stuffs a beanie on rather than do his hair because he’s out of time now. He grabs his bag as Ashton grabs his coat, covering up the “veni vidi vici” words on his shirt. Louis just smiles and gets his own coat, pulling it on as they start to make for the door. Liam and Zayn are already there, hands knotted as always. Liam’s leg is jiggling and Louis knows it’s because they’re not leaving on time so he thinks they’re going to be late.

“You could have left without us, you know,” Louis points out as the four of them make their way outside. He raises his collar against the cold, sucking in a breath once it hits him.

“Yeah, right.” Zayn’s eyes roll. “So that we could hear you complaining about how we left you for the next three days? I don’t think so.”

“We don’t even all have class together.”

“Yeah, but you, me, and Ash do.”

“And I need coffee and breakfast in the morning,” Zayn adds.

“Liar. You just like walking Liam to class.”

“Maybe.”

Their laughter rings out in the cold air, rising like steam above their heads. The four of them keep walking, legs flashing briskly in the grey morning. Louis wouldn’t tell them, but he loves this. He loves walking to class with his best friends and his boyfriend three days a week. He likes their conversations and their jokes and the feeling of having some of the most important people in his world there to start his morning off right. 

He slides his hand into Ashton’s and smiles, knowing that his hands will be nice and toasty by the time that class starts. It’s one of the benefits of this, along with a whole lot more. He wouldn’t change it, not for the entire world. He has amazing friends, a brilliant boy to call his own, and Christmas holidays are just around the corner.

He’s ready for a month of nothing and everything, he reckons. He’s ready for whatever comes, really, because it’ll be an adventure.

And he likes those the best.


End file.
